Laryalee Fraser, Nature Poet

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Earth Cry

Garden Awakening

Retribution?

In Honor of Hummingbirds

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Earth Cry

Lithesome energy uncurls and bounds
through liquid forest shadows; rustles tell
how nature writes a universal song
to match the timbre of each living cell.

Tiny scampers underground reveal
an interwoven pattern; silent wings
of soaring offer reverence to the sky...
they all exude the joy that wholeness brings.

Humans changed the pattern; we have sliced
the wholeness into pieces and impaled
the pieces on our spikes of greed. Our job
is to preserve, protect; I think we've failed.

Garden Awakening

Beside my cushioned wicker chair,
pink roses wend their tendril grace
along the fence -- their eager leaves
in quest of further rambling space.

My coffee steams in fragrant swirls;
I sip its pungent, deep-hued shade,
watch butterflies take silent dips
in blossoms tastefully arrayed.

By mossy rocks, through grassy roots,
a host of tiny, scurried shapes
run morning errands -- senses tuned
for pouncing foes and quick escapes.

In perky rows, bright-shouldered blooms
arrange their petals, creased by night;
they gently wrap their perfumed notes
and send them on a wafting flight.

A soft, celestial peace descends
in ripples -- clear yet undefined,
like heaven-dew that trickles through
each thirsty crevice of my mind.

© Copyright 2002 Laryalee Fraser

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Retribution?

My little dresser, crafted from
the skeletons of white-limbed pine,
supports my daily scavenging
for whimsy, never gives a sign

of retribution for the smooth
denouement of its destiny.
But high upon a mountain slope
(vacated now, since industry

left roots to die) pale, ghostly limbs
entreat the leaden sky. Dark nodes
of pelting rain converge, expand,
and soon an army forms, explodes

like liquid shrapnel pounding through
our trembling town. Its hungry drive
devours, spews our heritage --
our makeshift barriers can't survive

its rage. It heaves regurgitated
mud as though it would malign
the traces of our lives that cling
to strewn boards of white-limbed pine.

© Copyright 2001 Laryalee Fraser

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In Honor of Hummingbirds

Your wings unzip from southern warmth
to map new latitudes of dawn;
you brave the Gulf's voracious gape -
a twenty-hour marathon.

Through winds and rains and solstice change,
you soar on homing threads of birth;
a flashing dynamo, a wisp
of consciousness above the earth.

You chart the miles with blossom-breaks
between your forays after flies,
refuelling on their nectar blends -
a swizzle-pause to energize.

We hang our scarlet beacons out
to signify a landing site;
our honor is to briefly share
your iridescent glory flight.

Diminutive, defiant darter -
tiny heart in pounding pace;
we savor every fleeting glance -
a streak of heaven's fragile grace.

© Copyright 2002 Laryalee Fraser

I took the photo above in 2005, at my feeder.

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